by Pam Crooks
Blue moseyed over to the water’s edge. He couldn’t know the worry TJ felt over him, she mused. He’d be oblivious to the trouble he made to those who loved him most.
Suddenly, the pinto screamed and leapt off the hill toward him. Several mares whinnied; foals scattered. TJ breathed a fervent curse.
Blue, clearly startled, jumped back to face his aggressor, and it appeared the two—one territorial, the other untrained to the ways of the wild—would do battle.
Both reared and flailed their hooves, but Blue backed off first, and the confrontation ended. The master stallion cantered back to the hill, apparently confident his place as leader remained unquestioned.
“That was only a warning,” TJ grated. “Next time, he won’t let Blue off so lightly.”
“No,” she murmured, knowing it.
“Blue was never born to fight.” He reached for a coil of rope, tied to his saddle. “I have to get him out of there.”
After seeing the pinto’s outburst, the risks seemed worse than ever. The horse looked mean enough to have already reserved himself a place in hell.
“Just tell me what I should do,” she said.
“Stay here. That’s what you should do.”
She blinked at him. “Why?”
“It’s too dangerous.”
“For me, but not for you?” Exasperation snapped through her demand.
“I can’t let you get involved. All those horses—if you get thrown or if they come at you and knock you out of your seat, you’ll be trampled into sausage.”
“It won’t happen. I’ll make sure it won’t.”
“It could, Callie Mae. Faster than you’d know.”
She resisted the validity of his logic, straightened in the saddle and gathered the reins. “We can fret about it, or we can ride down and get your horse back. But you’ll not sit there and tell me to do nothing.”
He didn’t move.
“I’d never forgive myself if you got hurt,” he said, his tone rough.
“I don’t suppose I’d like it much, either.”
“You don’t have to do this.”
Keenly aware of the seconds rolling by, she considered the manada. The dirty-looking pinto, in particular. The fierce picture he made. Domineering and proud.
TJ was an expert rider. He lived and breathed horseflesh. He always had, always would.
But in the eyes of the mustangs’ leader, TJ was an enemy. A threat to freedom and all that was his. To protect what was his, he’d wage a vicious battle.
Why should TJ fight him alone?
TJ’s worry moved her, in spite of everything. She reached out and touched his forearm.
“I want to,” she said.
The tendons in his arm tightened, and his hand covered hers. A work-roughened hand, strong and warm. Incredibly gentle.
“I’d be crazy to let you…”
His voice trailed off, and he slipped his fingers beneath her palm, lifted her hand and pressed a kiss to her knuckles.
Callie Mae stilled. The simplest of gestures, expressed in humility, in concern—he’d taken the time to show her, as if he could do nothing less, and it was nearly her undoing.
She pulled her hand away. He couldn’t affect her like this. Make her all soft and unsettled inside. Too much stood between them. Too much always would.
“He knows we’re here.” She swung her head, her tone matter-of-fact. A trifle unsteady. “The master stallion.”
TJ nodded. “He still hasn’t taken a drink.”
She understood the mustang leader now. The life he lived. That he’d never have anything less than pure freedom.
“He’s biding his time.” She noted how he stood on the hill, his stance alert. Not even a hair on his tail twitched. “He’s waiting for us to make the first move.”
“Yes.” TJ studied the rest of the band. “As soon as we do, he’ll start the manada running. The mustangs will follow the lead mare, and he’s going to run like the devil with them.”
Callie Mae nodded. “Which one is the lead mare?”
“The dun, with the dark stripe down her back. Standing closest to Blue.”
Callie Mae found her. A thick-haired broomtail with a large head and long ears. “I see her.”
“Blue will be leading. There’s a box canyon ahead. I’ll turn him into it. And you—” he hesitated, as if he still warred with his worry she’d be hurt “—you make sure the mare keeps on running.”
“Should be easy enough.” For the second time that morning, adrenaline curled through her.
“At the first sign of trouble, back off. Y’hear me, Callie Mae? I’ll come around for you.”
She’d been riding a long time—since she was old enough to sit a horse. She could do this. “I’m no fool, TJ.”
“Let’s hope not.” He loosened the slipknot on his rope and made a loop big enough to throw over Blue’s head, then switched the coiled lariat to his left hand. “Are you ready?”
“Just waiting on you,” she retorted.
His gaze lingered over her for a brief moment. Then, amazingly, he waggled his brows in reckless anticipation—which another time, another place—would’ve been amusing, if he wasn’t so deliberately snubbing the danger that lay ahead.
And there her blood went, warming with excitement again. An awareness of him she shouldn’t be feeling.
Then, his focus changed and sharpened over the manada. He kicked his heels into the buckskin’s ribs, giving the horse his head in a hard gallop down the ridge.
Callie Mae drew in a breath and followed. Riding hard, the thunder of hooves resonated around her. Dust coated her lips, her throat. Ahead, TJ’s swift approach startled the mares, and they bolted away from the stream. Their shrieks filled the air. Foals scattered wildly, crying for their mothers.
In the confusion, Callie Mae lost sight of the lead mare, and she raked a frantic gaze over the ragtag band, their thick hides dirty, tails and manes tangled with cockleburs. This close to the herd, their numbers seemed to double; their size and speed did, too.
She couldn’t find Blue. Or the master stallion. For a moment, she floundered, needing direction. The roan veered and dodged fleeing horses; Callie Mae squeezed her thighs against his sides to keep herself in the saddle.
Then, as if by a miracle, the herd took shape and fell into a formation they alone knew. The pinto circled behind to force the slower horses to keep up, then ran alongside on the far left, adding his impetus to the mare’s to hasten their flight.
Hunched over the buckskin’s neck, riding fast, TJ inched past the lead mare, closer toward Blue. Callie Mae stayed behind him, keeping him in sight as he gained ground on the black thoroughbred.
“Hee-yah! Hee-yah!”
At TJ’s persistent yells, Blue made a sudden, panicked swerve toward the right—the box canyon TJ had known was there. He swung the lariat; the loop spun and dropped over Blue’s neck. The hemp jerked tight, and the thoroughbred’s gait faltered. TJ moved up beside him at full gallop, close, so close an arrow of fear shot through Callie Mae at what he would do.
That he intended to abandon his mount in mid-stride pushed her heart right into her throat. He was going to leap right onto Blue… oh, God, if either horse veered unexpectedly, TJ could fall beneath those hammering hooves…
But he vaulted onto Blue’s back with more ease, more agility, more daring than any man should possess, and swiftly wrapped the rope around the long black nose. Head swinging at the loss of his freedom, Blue trotted into the canyon with no way to escape.
TJ had regained his stake on his prized horse, and Callie Mae was all but shaking from it. Riding neck and neck with the lead mare, she left TJ behind, her concentration forced on keeping the rest of the herd moving.
Looking wild-eyed and scared, the shabby-haired dun ran as if her tail was on fire. Most likely, she’d never been in such close proximity to a human being before, and Callie Mae took pity on her. This far from Blue and TJ, the mare wouldn’t be much of a threat anyway. Not anymore.
“Go on!” If Callie Mae had her hat, she would’ve waved it to make her point. “Get out of here! Go!”
She fell back, and the manada thundered onward, wrapped in a cloying veil of dust, into the horizon.
Callie Mae tucked wind-blown strands of hair behind her ear and heaved the tension off her chest. Thank God they were gone.
She turned the roan around and spied TJ’s horse wandering up ahead, reins dragging. At her approach, the buckskin nickered, and she crooned softly to calm him, then bent from the saddle to take the leathers. Tired and docile, he followed her at an easy canter toward the canyon.
But the shrill sounds of screaming horses threw her pulse into pounding alarm again. She kicked her mount into a run toward the opening and spied Blue on his hind legs, engaged in battle with the fierce pinto. Their angry shrieks echoed throughout the canyon.
The stallions struck each other with their hooves, bit with their sharp teeth, lunged and swerved and twisted.
Only sheer strength could’ve kept TJ on Blue’s back as he fought to keep them both from the attack. Callie Mae knew he couldn’t hang on long, not without a saddle and with those powerful bodies thrashing in combat. His yells to scare off the pinto were ineffective; the manada leader was determined to remind Blue who was boss in this part of the range and that TJ was a threat to all he claimed.
Any moment, TJ could lose his grip and be thrown. One stomp of those heavy hooves would break bones, crush his insides—
She rode faster. “Hee-yah! Hee-yah!”
Blue jerked in distraction from her yells, but the pinto seemed unaffected by them. He reared, filled the air with long, shrill whinnies. He slammed his bulk into the thoroughbred, and Blue stumbled sideways. TJ grappled to keep his seat. The pinto charged again, and TJ went down on the hard ground and rolled.
“Hee-yah! Hee-yah!”
Callie Mae kept riding. She was almost there, only seconds away, time she needed to keep the horses moving, away from TJ. The stallion might think TJ was his enemy, but in a moment, he’d know she was, too. She had the advantage. She had speed. She had her horse and TJ’s, two forces against one, and if the stallion valued his freedom, he’d realize he’d be cornered in the canyon if he didn’t turn and high-tail it out in a hurry.
His taste for the fight clearly gone, Blue retreated deeper into the safety of the gorge. The pinto didn’t follow but swung toward Callie Mae.
His eyes turned sharp, assessing. His stance changed and readied for flight. He tossed a high-handed glance at Blue, as if to flaunt his triumph and superiority at being the master of mustangs, and just before Callie Mae reached him, he leapt into a full run and fled in the direction of his manada.
Chapter Ten
TJ needed a minute for the stars to clear.
It’d been a good long while since he’d been thrown from a horse and landing on the hard canyon dirt had rattled every bone in his body. Pain shot through his brain, telling him his head took part of the fall. He tasted dust, smelled it, and lay face down with his cheek pressed into it.
But he could breathe, and he could think. Some. Better now that the stars began to thin. Shrill neighing penetrated his consciousness, and he strained to remember where he was. And why.
A woman’s shout distracted the remembering. His eyelids cracked open; he strained to focus on her, on the blur moving not far in front of him.
The blur cleared, and an oath choked out of his throat.
Callie Mae and that damned mustang stallion.
Blue.
TJ spied his horse farther away, deeper in the canyon. The need to go to him, make sure he wasn’t injured, that he wouldn’t run again gripped TJ. He planted his hands shoulder-high and tried to push himself up, but his muscles locked. He sank back down on a groan.
The neighing ended. Hooves pounded the canyon floor. Then footsteps.
Callie Mae ran toward him. “TJ. Oh, God, TJ!”
She sounded frantic, scared, and words to assure her he was all right failed him. He wasn’t sure he was just yet. He only needed a little more time to find out, to get his strength back. A few more seconds…
But the way she threw herself on her knees and started running her hands over his back and arms got him to feeling again in a hurry.
“TJ, are you all right? Oh, here, roll over.” She yanked on his shirt, using it for leverage to pull him onto his side. “Let me look at you.”
He let her worry over him. When had she ever? The high-and-mighty Callie Mae Lockett, fussing about him, a lowly cowboy in her mother’s outfit—
She tugged him onto his back, and thankfully, when she did, nothing hurt.
“Look at me, TJ,” she pleaded. “Say something.”
Her cool fingers tapped repeatedly at his cheeks to pull him out of the darkness. She didn’t know he was already out, that he liked her fussing, the touching part being the best. He kept his eyes closed so she’d keep on touching him.
“I don’t see any blood,” she muttered, and he imagined her checking him over but good. Her hands poked and prodded over his shoulders and chest. “I can’t tell if anything’s broken, TJ. Please wake up so you can help me!”
Didn’t seem right to keep on deceiving her, not when she sounded genuinely upset. Far as he knew, there wasn’t much wrong with him, but her thinking there might and being on the verge of tears over it filled him with a boldness he’d kept in check too damn long.
Emitting a mock growl, he hooked his arm around her waist and pulled her down to roll with him, flipping their positions in one quick motion. She cried out in surprise, landed flat on her back and stared up at him with wide, startled eyes.
“TJ!” she exclaimed, breathless.
He took full advantage of her prone position to keep her pinned beneath him with the weight of his body. Fate had blessed him with an opportunity he’d probably never have again. Callie Mae had been part of his dreams for so long, he couldn’t remember a time when she wasn’t.
And having her like this was one hell of a dream come true, and his groin lit into a slow fire.
“TJ! What do you think you’re—are you hurt?”
“If I was, reckon I’m not anymore.” His mouth curved in amusement. Feeling her slim thighs against his, her hips and belly, too, well, he’d all but forgotten the knock his head had taken.
Her eyes narrowed. “You were playing possum with me.”
He managed an innocent look. “No, I wasn’t.”
“Well, you scared me!” Her hand fisted, and she smacked his shoulder. “What were you thinking, jumping onto Blue at full gallop back there?”
Is that what she was upset about? His amusement faded. “I couldn’t let him get away, could I?”
“So you just hopped on him, as if you were born without a lick of sense. Never mind the two dozen mustangs running wild alongside who could have tromped all over you if you fell off.” She glared up at him, her eyes spitting blue lightning. “Would’ve served you right if you did. Get tromped.”
His smile found its way back. Her vexation charmed him. “I knew what I was doing, Callie Mae.”
“Did you know the pinto was going to circle around to fight you, too?” she demanded. “To make sure you’d stay away from his mares?”
TJ hesitated. That he hadn’t expected. The stallion had come from nowhere and was unrelenting in his attack. Blue had defended them both as best he could, but TJ had heard the terror in the thoroughbred’s screams.
“I should have,” he admitted.
His glance lifted to the sight of his precious horse, tied to brush beside his buckskin and Callie Mae’s roan. Safe. Calmed. In the quiet of the canyon, with the manada long gone, relief poured through TJ.
He’d had his hands full keeping his seat on Blue while the two stallions tangled. After TJ had been thrown and knocked cold, Blue could have bolted, and TJ wouldn’t have known until it was too late…
But Callie Mae had been there. She’d kept Blue from running again.
&n
bsp; He returned his gaze to her, her face only inches away from his. A fine layer of dust coated her skin and clung to the tips of her lashes. Eyes the color of a summer sky peered up at him with somber intensity.
“He’s yours again, TJ,” she said.
“Yes.”
He heard no animosity in the hushed tone of her voice. Only understanding, as if she’d come to accept why the horse meant so much to him, despite their differences of opinion on it.
“Guess I’ve got you to thank for that,” he added in a low murmur.
Wind-strewn wisps lay across her forehead and brow. It wasn’t often anyone saw Callie Mae Lockett like he saw her now, with her high-society airs forgotten, her defenses down. When every hair on her head wasn’t swept upward and topped with fancy millinery that cost more than any woman should dare to pay.
This was the side of her she was born to be. The Lockett side. A woman whose legacy would forever bind her to the land and its essence. One who needed the wind to color her cheeks and brighten her eyes and veil her skin with the clean scent of air and sun.
A woman who, like himself, craved the land, and needed to be close to it to survive.
TJ savored the sight of her laying in the dirt and rough range grass, in her borrowed shirt and denims, cinnamon curls tangled and errant.
His fingers smoothed them away from her face. That he had the privilege—and she hadn’t protested—filled him with a slow yearning he didn’t bother to bank.
A yearning for more.
Her breasts snuggled against his chest; he pressed closer, to feel them more fully. He detected the faintest hitch in her breathing, her acknowledgement of what he’d done. And why. Her sky-blue orbs turned dark, sultry. A kinship of their thoughts.
His gaze drifted along the proud line of her nose and settled over her mouth. A glorious mouth, dusky, perfectly shaped.
Meant to be enjoyed by a man.
“Kiss me, TJ,” she whispered, watching him. “Being’s that’s what we’re both thinking about right now.”
The fire in his loins leapt through his blood. No shy female, this one. She knew what she wanted and went after it. At some point, growing up, she’d learned how it was between a man and a woman. The pleasures to be found.